Carte Blanche
by ABOVEandBEYOND
Summary: Just the beginning of the epic relationship between Rory and Logan-- how Logan deals with his newfound feelings and how he acts on his impulses around the lovely Miss Gilmore. irony in the title


**Carte Blanche**

Chapter One:

Thrown off Axis

(A/N: This is a ROGAN. I needn't keep you from reading much longer. Enjoy and send me back some feedback. Good or bad. hopefully good. That's it. Have fun!)

**Disclaimer:** (_which is valid for the whole story_) I (_unfortunately_) do **not** own Gilmore Girls or these characters…blah, blah, blah…

_Now, on with the story!_

Filthy rich. Filthy stinkin' rich. That's what Logan Elias Huntzberger was. His very presence exuded his overwhelming wealth. A pretentious aura radiated off of him 24/7. You don't have to dig deep for this one, Sherlock. It practically smacks you in the face, so you can put that magnifying glass away. His opulence is painfully obvious; even the most oblivious of people would not fail to notice.

The sleek German sports car.

The custom tailored Armani suit he donned regularly in the presence of New England's upper echelon.

The imported cognac that filled his liquor cabinet.

Man, his affluence was so blatantly obvious, Helen Keller would've noticed.

And with the wealth, came the power. Power was to wealth as milk is to cookies. Utterly inseparable were the two entities. From his great fortune followed the undeniable raw power. Added to the power and awed glares he received from his prominent last name, and it seemed like the clout he held was limitless. With such an insane amount of influence he could impose in society, in Yale, one would suspect a little bit of an ego. Well, you assume correctly.

Now ask yourselves, what is money and power good for? For a college boy, three things:

1. Threats or bribes to professors of the prestigious university

2. Private jets to fly off to wherever- London, Paris, Rome- at the drop of a hat

3. Girls

Okay, now let me elaborate. Firstly, with all the insane partying occurring and extravagant bashes being thrown left and right, where would Logan- _professional partier_- find the time to attend classes? To write papers? To read up about the latest economic recession or recent Pulitzer-winning writer? I'm sorry, but those things somehow don't make it into his busy schedule. Shocker.

Therefore, his grades (and ultimately his public image) would take quite a blow from his reckless gallivanting. But how would that look if the son of the supreme media mogul couldn't pass his classes? How would it look if the Huntzberger heir couldn't graduate?

Bad. _Very, very_ bad.

And If Logan learned anything from his twenty years born and raised in Hartford society, _image is everything._ What's on the surface, what is presented to the public, would eventually determine every aspect of his life. It would determine the business deals he made once he took over as CEO of the Huntzberger Publishing Group, the society events he attended, and the respect he received from his peers. _So he better not screw it all up now_—as his father so eloquently put it. Hence, the bribery and well-placed threats within the Yale University system were a necessity. You see what I'm getting at here? Don't even bother with the naiveté. The world is a corrupt place; just go with it.

Onto my next point, the jet set lifestyle of the young Huntzberger. As you can imagine, the pressure that accompanies Logan's life can sometimes be a tad overwhelming. And where does one go to release this pent-up stress? Why, there's no place better than the south of France! Or perhaps a few laid-back days in Australia is more his pace. Maybe take that new yacht for a twirl in a tropical locale. No matter, he needed to just… escape. And a privately-owned plane is perfect for just that.

However, this jet is not only for those stress-relieving purposes. You'll soon find out that it holds some pragmatic uses as well. Like I said, image is everything. Reputation is damn near impossible to rehabilitate. Just ask Richard Nixon. In the case of Logan Huntzberger, being a mischievous troublemaker does not work out in his favor. His image is sure to take a beating if he continues on in Hartford as the wild party boy he is. So what's his father to do? Ship him out of the country, of course! The thousands of miles between him and Hartford are sure to stop the rumor mills from churning on about his latest madcap prank. You see? It's for his own good that he gets out, that he's off to another Swiss boarding school. Good thing that trusty jet is on hand. Convenience is something a Huntzberger could truly appreciate.

And now it's time to clarify my favorite reason—girls. Ah, the ladies are a big part of Logan's life. Practically anything carrying two X chromosomes will flock to him. And Logan, a true player at heart, will find something dirty to do with anything in a skirt. It was quite a balanced relationship, as you can see. When he needed the occasional fuck, he'd merely pick from the loads of girls waiting at his beck and call. That's what we call convenience.

He had the money. He had the power. And because the two were in his possession, girls (usually the superficial ones) just clung to him like Velcro. Perhaps, if he was feeling a bit more patient that day, he would simply turn on the infamous Huntzberger charm to reel in the (rare) reluctant date. And so far, challenging girls were a scarcity in his circle; lucky for him. They relented and crumbled under his debonair ways almost immediately. Send them a smirk and a suggestive comment, and they just couldn't resist.

They wanted fancy dinners out on the town? He could provide that with a mere swipe of his card.

They wanted to be complimented? The words practically rolled off his tongue.

They wanted to live in the lap of luxury? Hello? Weren't you listening? His whole life was one lavish party.

Jewels? Fancy Cars? Exotic Orchids? Designer gowns? They could all be bought. They were easy to come by. A swipe of his almighty black card and anything and everything would arrive promptly at his doorstep.

In this materialistic world which we live in, this was all that mattered. He played to his advantage. Isn't that the way to success, after all? Logan gave them this, and in exchange, he got the physical release he sought.

He led one charmed life, or so it seemed. He had everything. The world, as they say, was at his fingertips. Do what he wanted now, and think about the consequences later. That was the maxim he lived by. After all, he was an honored member of the elite Life and Death Brigade, wasn't he? And what was their motto? _In Omnia Paratus.__Live in the Moment._ Because in a few short years, his social life would be nonexistent, and these days of insane partying would be a mere memory. His days of spontaneity and unrestraint would be O-V-E-R. He better live it up now, because before he knew it, it would be filled with endless hours of conference meetings, in suffocating business suits, at society events. Not _exactly_ his definition of a fun time. But, C'est La Vie, right? Such is life. Well, the life of a socialite, that is.

Things seemed to be going smoothly. Everything was right on track. He, like so many other rebellious young socialites doomed to a certain fate, was just bidding his time before he'd have to flip the switch and become Mr. Huntzberger, CEO of HPG. I mean, even his father had a wild partying period, right? His so-called dark period? It must be genetic, or something.

That was his life, and he had come to terms with it. When something grim looms over you since birth, you kind of get used to it. He didn't like it, but that wasn't what he was saying. He just accepted it. He was who he was, and he'll do what is expected of him when the time comes. When life is so predictable, and everything is already planned out for you, it's only natural to gravitate to what's unpredictable, to what's challenging. And that's what Logan truly craved more than anything -- a challenge. The booze. The money. The ladies. His loyal mates. The constant you-can-do-better lecture from Mitchum. Those things were predictable. They shared a single common denominator: consistency.

Can you say _vicious circle?_

So when a certain blue-eyed brunette waltzed into his life, things were taken slightly out-of- balance. Okay, that's the understatement of the century. His whole world, his entire existence, was thrown off axis.

And he had to admit, _he liked it._

(A/N: Those reviews? Get on it!)_  
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